Pieces of Poppy
by worrywart
Summary: For the Quidditch League Fan Fiction Competition. My team made it to the semi-final round! Poppy Pomfrey is an integral member of the Hogwarts staff, but a lesser written character in fan fiction. Why not take a peek with me into a day in her life and learn a bit more about this character, who happens to be a favorite of mine.


**This is my submission for the QLFC Semi-Final Round. For this round, we are doing the support staff at Hogwarts; the lesser written characters. My team, the Caerphilly Catapults, has Madam Pomfrey, who happens to be a favourite of mine. The prompts I chose are 'ache' and 'fingers crossed', and it is written in the style of 'slice of life'.**

 **This story is probably not canon compliant, as I've chosen to set it in the quiet years between Voldemort's first downfall and the Harry years at Hogwarts. According to the HP Lexicon, Poppy was 'middle aged' in the Marauder years, so I'm picturing her in her late forties here.**

 **I do not own the world that JKR created.**

 **Thank you so much to Velveteenbunny for the Brit pick and thosedarndursleys for the beta. You ladies are wonderful!**

* * *

 _Winter gets colder every year,_ grumbled Poppy Pomfrey as she threw back her duvet and got out of bed. Thankfully, no students appeared last night needing care, and she was able to sleep through the entire night, although it meant—if experience was any teacher—that an eventful day ahead was waiting for her. Slipping her feet into her sheepskin slippers, she drew on her dressing gown and made her way to her bathroom. As she walked, her hip began to ache, making her steps painful. _I'll have to get some more salve from Severus,_ she thought. Self-cast healing charms never quite did the trick, and the ache seemed deeper every year.

An hour later, she was sat down to breakfast in the Great Hall, eyeing the students as they wandered in. _Miss Stafford will need an anti-cramp potion after breakfast,_ she noted as the student in question walked slowly toward the Hufflepuff table, her arms curled in on herself. Miss Stafford came in every month, a martyr to menstrual cramps. _Perhaps I should talk to her about a monthly hormone potion; it would greatly reduce her cramps._ A student in a sling threw himself onto a bench at the Ravenclaw table. _Mr. Holt will simply not listen and take it slow,_ she sighed. _I need to make sure he comes for a check-up on that elbow. Oh, dear, Mr. Williams looks a bit green around the gills. I'll be seeing him no doubt._

Serving herself a portion of eggs, she noticed Minerva wander in, stop at the Gryffindor table to speak with some students and then wend her way to the staff table. "Good morning, Minerva," she said.

"Good morning, Poppy. Are we on for tea this afternoon?"

"Certainly. I'll see you a little after four, unless something comes up." Poppy turned to her breakfast and began to eat.

* * *

"There you go, Mr. Williams, into bed with you. You've got a small bit of flu—whoops!" The child vomited down the front of Poppy's apron. " _Evanesco._ There, there, boy. No need to cry. I know vomiting isn't easy. I'll have you cleaned up in a trice." With a swish of her wand, the boy and sick were cleaned, and the smell vanished. She drew up a few privacy screens and offered the boy a clean set of pyjamas. "Once you've changed, get into bed and rest. I'll come around later and see how you're doing."

Poppy went to her office to annotate the boy's medical chart and made a mental list of the supplies she'd need over the next two weeks. Once one student came down with flu, there would be at least two dozen more stricken as well. She'd have to Floo Minerva to ask about handing out prevention pamphlets at lunch.

With a teacup balanced in her hand and The Prophet tucked under her arm, Poppy wandered out of her office toward her favourite spot in the infirmary. It was the perfect sunny location for her tea break. Because she was so intent on her mission, she did not see the black shadow that was Severus Snape until she bumped into him. "Severus!" Poppy hollered, dropping her tea cup and paper. "How many times have I asked you not to sneak up on me?!"

The young man snorted and shrugged his shoulders.

She whipped out her wand to clean the mess. "What's the matter now? You only come to see me when you can't heal something yourself."

Severus mumbled in reply.

"What's that you say? Open your mouth when you speak, lad."

"Madam, I prefer we go into your office. It is a matter of a rather delicate nature."

Poppy shook her head and snickered. "I've told you before those girls in Knockturn Alley are not to be trifled with. She turned toward her office and murmured to herself, "And you allergic to penicillin." Out loud, she continued, "Come along then."

As soon as the door was closed, Severus growled, "It is not a sexual problem."

Several long and silent moments passed before them. Poppy noticed Severus fidgeting and attempting not to pull his trousers away from his backside.

"Well, spit it out," she said. "Lunch is in twenty minutes, and I've got pamphlets to hand out; the flu is going round again."

Severus lowered his head and spoke quickly. "I was in Greenhouse Three and tripped over a box, landing on my bottom."

"For Merlin's sake, Severus, slap some bruise balm on your bum. I'll get you an inflatable cushion to ease the pain while you sit. You can Disillusion it, and no one will know."

"It's not that," Severus hissed, his face reddening. "I was not aware that a Venomous Tentacula plant was on the floor until I fell."

Poppy burst out laughing. "Oh dear boy, tell me you don't…."

Severus sneered.

"Come into the isolation room and drop your trousers—"

Severus looked affronted. "Madam!" he spluttered, cutting her off.

"Oh, come now. I've seen your backside and plenty of your other bits more times since you were eleven than any other student; it won't shock me now. Tell me when you're ready, and I'll get the spines out."

* * *

Poppy sat in her chair and helped herself to some roast. She noted that sprouts were being served and shuddered. How she hated them. She opted for an extra large helping of potatoes instead.

"Poppy, have you got the brochures to pass to the students?" Minerva asked.

"Here in my pocket," answered Poppy, slipping her hand into her apron and pulling out a small bunch of parchment. With a flick of her wand, they enlarged.

Professor Dumbledore stood. "Attention please, attention!" The students quietened down and looked toward the head table. "Madam Pomfrey would like to address you all regarding how to help you stay healthy as we fight yet another round of flu. By the looks of a few of you, this information may be in the nick of time! Madam Pomfrey?"

"Thank you, Headmaster. Now, as you know…"

* * *

The doors to the infirmary burst open and several students darted through, carrying a boy haphazardly between them, shouting for Poppy.

"Madam Pomfrey! Quick! Stevens fell from his broom during Quidditch practice! We think he's got a busted collarbone!"

Poppy hurried from her office. "Set him on the bed there. Now shoo," she said, waving her hands. "Give him room to breathe and allow me to get in there. Get along, now." She sat down beside the moaning boy. "There you are dear, just a moment and we'll have you to rights." She cast a few diagnostic charms. "Yes, it's broken all right…in three places no less. Now, this may hurt a bit." With another wave of her wand and a gruesome, audible crunch, the bones were reset. "Now, we'll get you changed and give you a pain potion. You'll be right as rain in the morning."

She stood and drew up privacy screens, noticing the Slytherin team still milling about. "You lot still here? Go on with you; he'll be fine. Get yourselves dried off before you catch your death! Jenkins, tell Professor Snape Stevens'll not be in class tomorrow."

* * *

Poppy sat on the tartan covered sofa in Minerva's private office, accepting the cup of tea floating toward her. "And then, he said he fell onto the Tentacula and got the spikes in his arse!" Poppy recanted the event, laughing as she did so.

"Poor Severus," Minerva said, wiping her eyes and giggling. "That boy just can't seem to get it together."

"He's young yet; not quite twenty-five," answered Poppy. "He'll find his way."

The ladies chuckled a little while longer before Minerva asked, "Have you got a response about your vacation villa?"

Poppy immediately put her cup down. "Land's sake! I forget I got an owl at breakfast! Shoved it in my pocket," she drifted off as she scrabbled in her apron pockets. "Here it is! Oh, keep your fingers crossed, Minerva!" she exclaimed as she ripped open the envelope and began to scan the letter. Her smile grew as she read. "I got it! The agency has booked me in the villa for two weeks in July. Oh, I can't wait. I'll certainly need it by then."

"I'm so pleased for you," Minerva said. "So," she continued cheekily, "going to find a good looking man while you're there and have a shag fest?"

Poppy winked. "Don't I usually?" She broke into laughter, Minerva joining her.

* * *

Poppy turned down her duvet and cast a warming charm on the linens. She began to remove the hair pins that kept her hair in its customary bun, scratching her scalp as her hair fell onto her shoulders. "Ahh, that feels good," she murmured. Setting the pins on the table beside the bed, she picked up a book and got into bed, settling amongst the plump pillows. It wasn't long until the book fell from her fingers and a gentle snore issued from her nose. It _had_ been an eventful day.


End file.
